


Neon Lights

by Free_writes



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Aman is very chaotic, First Kiss, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I was bullied into writing this, M/M, cab ride, here you go, please enjoy, you know who you are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Free_writes/pseuds/Free_writes
Summary: Aman has never kissed anyone in his life but right then, inside a cramped little Maruti car, he’s sure that he never wants to kiss anyone other than Karthik for as long as he’s alive.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	Neon Lights

“-don’t take the bridge, there’s construction work going and the congestion is just EESH. Not sexy at all,” Karthik says. 

Aman blinks blearily at the flashing LED and neon lights streaking across his vision, the cold air harshly whipping his face through the half-open window of the dinky little Alto. He’s drained after a long day of trying to sweet-talk and smile customers and all he longs for is the sweet embrace of his tiny little twin bed in their little 1 BHK. 

“Under bridge then?” asks the ola driver. 

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” Karthik replies. He’s fiddling with the contents of his duffel bag. Aman lolls his head towards the other man lazily. “So as I was saying this group of balding middle aged uncles are staring down this single bottle of the white rose tequila…”

Aman doesn’t mean to tune Karthik out but he’s tired and he’d rather just watch the dance of multihued lights haloing and painting the taller man's face. It’s dark and late into the night and the colours would, on anyone else, make them look like a Dussehra statue in a an open field ready to be obliterated but on Karthik they look like one of those artworks they saw in that one upscale gallery they sneaked into for the free champagne. The sight sends a strange but not unwelcome warmth to his core as if he’s the one about to be blown up with firecrackers.

Maybe Aman’s drunk on sleep deprivation.  
He scoots closer to Karthik, lets his head rest on the taller man’s shoulder and smiles at Karthik’s almost unnoticeable relieved exhale.

 _Yeah_ , he agrees. _This is much more comfortable_. 

Karthik keeps talking, the seemingly endless well of energy still not exhausted, even though Aman knows for a fact that the moment Karthik’s head will hit the pillow, it will be lights out for him. It’s yet another funny story about a random group of people and Karthik is trying hard to make it interesting to listen, his voice animated and full of life, just like him. 

The rise and fall of his voice is the siren's call that lulls him to a doze. 

He breaks out of the doze when the Ola driver interrupts Karthik’s monologue. 

“Do you mind if I pick some things up for my wife? It’s late and the shops will close.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Keeping the wife happy and live a long life. That’s the dream, isn’t it?” Karthik says to the driver and Aman doesn’t open his eyes but he can see the dopey little smile in his mind. 

The driver snorts. “Something like that.” And with that the driver pulls over and gets out of the car.

Aman’s eyes blink open when the door slams close strong enough for them to feel the impact.

Kartik has never let a small thing such as an interruption stop his monologues and he’s not going to start today. “So where was I? Okay, yes! And the man just kept CHUGGING it, I swear to God. And the drink is spilling down his shirt-“

“Karthik,” Aman calls, softly.

“I’m there, hollering at the top of my voice to get the fuck out of dodge, the police siren is getting closer and closer,” Kartik continues speaking. 

Maybe too softly. 

Aman doesn’t think, maybe he should, but in that moment it just feels natural to lean up and press his mouth against Karthik’s. His lips are softer than he’d imagined it would be and the stubble is more prickly. 

Karthik freezes and he sits there, unmoving and Aman pulls back. But then it’s almost like the movement spurs the taller man back into action and he pulls him back and presses their lips together once more. And suddenly, there it is. That electricity that moves under his skin every time their hands brush together, every simple and uncomplicated touch. Except now it’s a hundred times more intense that it feels like lightning sparking between two clouds. The thrumming blossoms from where their lips are touching to the rest of his body. Aman has never kissed anyone in his life but right then, inside a cramped little Maruti car, he’s sure that he never wants to kiss anyone other than Karthik for as long as he’s alive. 

It’s a simple soft press of lips until Karthik tilts his head and opens his mouth and it’s- _oh._ Aman feels like he’s drowning in the deepest oceans and soaring in among the highest of clouds. It’s warmer inside the car than a February night should be. 

Karthik’s hand moves to cup the side of Aman’s jaw and that’s when he feels it. Karthik is trembling. His hands are shaking and somehow, that makes Aman smile. He pulls away from Karthik to look at his face. 

Karthik looks devastated in the most beautiful of ways. 

He is staring at him with an awed look on his face. Aman knows there’s a thousand and one questions lingering on the tip of the other man's tongue, feels the same questions form somewhere behind the sleep-clouded depths of his own mind. 

The driver enters the car then, unaware of the tension hanging heavy and mutters a “sorry” as he starts up the engine again.

Aman must be crazy but all he feels is content and he goes back to dozing on Karthik’s shoulder. 

There’s questions to be answered, crises to be had and things to be talked about. But all that can wait for tomorrow’s sun. For now, Aman wants to fall asleep next to the love of his life.

So that’s what he does.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @randomfandomtraveller and @amuse_me. Please enjoy the only thing I'll ever write for this ship. 
> 
> Maybe.


End file.
